


The Healer's Bloodied Hands

by geekyjez



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Post-Trespasser, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 03:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6836992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Inquisitor falls ill during her travels, the last person she'd expect to come to her aid is the man she's been chasing for months on end. </p><p> </p><p>  <i>A Post-Trespasser Solavellan Sick Fic.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Healer's Bloodied Hands

She had been careless.

The sickness came on quickly. Isii could feel it set deep within her when she first awoke - the tightness in her chest, the feverish chill upon her skin. The cave where she sought shelter had only been a temporary place to rest, but she was too weak to keep making the climb and refused to descend back down the mountainside. She had come too far now. Cassandra’s words played over in her head once more - _You should not make this journey alone. You should have an escort in case there is trouble._ The Seeker had been right of course. She often was. Though her friend had probably imagined some grander peril - falling into a ravine or perhaps attacked by wildlife. Set upon by bandits who’d make the fatal mistake of assuming a one-armed elven woman traveling alone would be an easy target. The reality was far more pathetic. The mighty Inquisitor who had killed the Elder One and healed the sky had instead taken ill and was shivering on a thin bedroll.

It was simply a cold. She refused to believe otherwise. Isii told herself that all she needed was a day’s rest. The healing potions would take effect and she would be well by morning. Then she could start again.

That had been two days ago.

The fever worsened. Her bones felt as if they were made of lead and they ached constantly. Her breathing was shallow and labored, her chest strained by a wracking cough that plagued her each time she tried to sleep. She would lapse into the Fade in fits and starts, awaking again to the choking rattle of her lungs filling with fluid. She would cough until she felt as though her body would break, curled in on herself until she could finally gasp in greedy gulps of air. She drank the last of her health potions, though they seemed to do her little good.

All of this for the sake of secrecy. Because it was harder for him to track her this way. Because she knew the only advantage she had was the element of surprise. Solas knew everything about her. He knew how she thought, how she would behave, the kinds of decisions she would make. She had to remain unpredictable. That’s how she justified the risks. That’s why she was dragging herself into the middle of nowhere in order to make a rendezvous that at this rate would quickly pass her by. She’d sought allies and instead found herself trapped.

By the fourth day she was too weak to maintain her fire. Summoning was useless, no matter how hard she tried. She had blankets. She wouldn’t freeze to death. She kept herself wrapped up, even as the heat of her own skin made the coverings feel oppressive. Her clothing was soaked through with sweat. She told herself that this was a sign that the fever was breaking - yet it never seemed to reach its peak. Isii tried to make herself eat. Though her stomach was thankfully agreeable, she was too tired to consume much. Her throat burned each time she tried to swallow. Exhaustion took her in waves, blinking in and out of consciousness as the fever turned her dreams into battlefields filled with monsters she could not comprehend.

Cole found her on the fifth day. At least, she thought it was the fifth day. Time seemed to move strangely.

She wasn’t certain whether or not he was real or simply a part of another dream. Isii blinked back sleep to find him crouching next to her, his brow creased with concern. She managed a small smile. “Hello, Cole.” Her voice came out as a harsh rasp. She tried to swallow, starting again. “It’s good to see you.”

“You’re hurting,” he murmured softly.

Isii let out a tired laugh. “Yeah,” she agreed with a weak nod. “But this isn’t the kind of hurt you can help with.”

He reached out, placing his hand on her brow. She remembered how touch used to fascinate him, when physical connection was still foreign and new. She wondered if he felt that way now as her eyelids grew heavy once more.

“But I can,” he whispered.

It was the last thing she heard before sleep took her.

When she felt the arms around her, she could offer no resistance. She tried to blink back the fog of exhaustion as she felt herself being lifted up. Her attempt to speak came out as a low groan. She heard someone shush her and it was a soothing, familiar sound.

“It’s alright,” the voice whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

Isii tried to lift her head but could do little more than curl it further against the crook of his neck. She could feel his skin against her cheek. He was cold as ice - or perhaps she was burning. But she knew that voice and she knew his scent and none of this made any sense. She was dreaming. She had to be dreaming. The fever was making her confused.

“Solas?” Her tongue felt thick, her throat raw. His name sounded like little more than a whimper.

She lost consciousness again before she heard any reply.

Time shifted, returning only to slip away again, like rising above the waves before being pulled back down into the depths. Bright light cut through the darkness for a time, the shiver of energy brushing over her skin. Colors and shapes, disparate and incomplete, glimpses of mirrors and crumbling ruins floating through the air. Dreams and delirium tried to compensate for the gaps, leaving her only more disoriented. One moment she was rocking in someone’s arms through an unfamiliar room, tipping and swaying with each step as they carried her wordlessly up a set of stairs. The next she was home, lying in the back of an aravel, the press of Deshanna’s healing magic on her skin as her Keeper soothed her with soft words. Then another, in Skyhold, curled up on the couch in Solas’s study, listening to him read to her as her head rested against his lap, his fingers running idly over strands of her hair.

Isii stirred again. The bedroll didn’t feel right beneath her. It was softer. Wider. She felt the brush of hands guiding her, gently pulling her upright. One palm cupped the back of her neck, supporting her head as it fell like dead weight against their touch. “Sit up for me,” the voice murmured, floating through her mind, disembodied. “Slowly. That’s it.”

The room was spinning when she opened her eyes, the sudden wave of dizziness causing her to lurch forward but he caught her, holding her steady until she stabilized. Isii blinked away the haze of sleep as she peered at him. Solas stared back at her, crouching beside the unfamiliar bed she rested on, his face pained with worry.

“Am I…” She paused, closing her eyes a moment. Words didn’t come easily. Her voice was still hoarse, but the pain in her throat had diminished significantly. Even though her chest still ached, she could breathe a little easier than before. “Am I awake?” she asked, dazed. She looked around the room, seeking some familiar feature but found none. It was a bedroom, but the architecture was wrong. Arched walls and carved stone, far more elvhen than human. “Is this real? Are you…”

“This is real,” he said calmly. His hand went to her cheek, cupping it with the curve of his palm. His skin felt so cold against her own, the shocking chill offering some relief from the fever that still burned within her. His brow furrowed. “I have prepared a bath for you,” he said gently, gesturing to a tub that sat a few steps away from the bed. “It will ease some of your discomfort. Will you let me help you?”

She blinked and then nodded, slowly. It was only when she reached for the straps at her shoulder that she realized her armor was already gone, as were her boots. Solas slipped her tunic over her head and she couldn’t help but shiver as her sweat soaked skin met the open air. His touch was careful and cautious as he removed her breastband, easing her to her feet as he began to loosen her breeches. She could do little more than hold onto him, resting her brow against his shoulder as the world swayed unsteadily around her. She felt no shame in her nudity as he stripped her clothing away. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t bared her body for him before.

Slowly, he guided her into the tub and she slumped down into the water, kneeling as she gripped the edge of the basin. He said nothing as he rolled up his sleeves, dipping a cloth into the bath before running it along her back in slow, broad strokes. She tried to stop her shivering but her body was tired. So tired. And after months of fighting, months of nothing but brief glimpses of him in the Fade, months filled with dread and fear all centered around him, around what he might do and now he was here, taking care of her, tending to her as if nothing had changed, as if they weren’t enemies, as if he cared for her so deeply and yet it still wasn’t enough to make him stop -

She choked on a sob, tears coming as a sudden flood that she was powerless to hold back. Solas’s arms slipped around her and she pressed her face into his shoulder, pulling him closer, bawling through sheer exhaustion- all of her pent up fears and frustrations pouring out of her weakened, feverish state. He said nothing, silent as he held her, letting her tremble around each hiccupping gasp. When the flood subsided his embrace remained, his fingers running soothing circles between her shoulder blades.

“Better?” he asked.

She sniffled loudly. “No.”

Solas pulled back to look at her, freeing his arm gently from her grasp as he dipped the cloth once more, running it softly against her cheeks. He cleansed her face, her brow, her neck - all wordlessly, wearing a heavy look of concern. He spoke only to give gentle instructions - asking her to shift position, to lean back and wet her hair. Solas moved away only briefly, retrieving a small bottle before kneeling behind her, his fingers soon running along her scalp, spreading something that was slick and sweet smelling into sweat-soaked curls.

She didn’t speak for a long time, hugging her knees to her chest, her eyes downcast as he touched her. The silence felt tense. Uneasy. He was still washing her hair when she finally cleared her throat.

“How did you find me?” she asked in a whisper.

“Cole,” he answered softly. “He said you were hurt. That you needed my help.”

“And you actually listened?”

It sounded more bitter than she had intended, though she supposed that sentiment wasn’t unwarranted. How many times had she wanted him at her side, prayed for him to make himself known to her, weeks stretching into months with no word, no contact? Countless nights where she woke from another fruitless dream and wept, hating herself for loving him and hating him for not loving her enough.

His fingers paused against her scalp for a moment before withdrawing, one hand supporting the back of her neck. “Lean back,” he instructed. He guided her head down to the surface of the water, wordlessly rinsing out the lather. He avoided her gaze as she stared up at him, her eyes soon studying the archways overhead.

“Where are we?”

“Someplace safe,” he muttered vaguely.

“And how did I get here?”

“I carried you,” he said. “Thankfully there was an eluvian close to your location, so the journey did not take long.”

“I didn’t know about any-” She stopped herself, her brow furrowing. “No, I suppose I wouldn’t know where your mirrors are kept, would I?”

“There is a reason I keep their locations secure,” he answered plainly.

It was a long time before he spoke again. He dried her off after helping her from the bath. As much as she wanted to snatch the towel from him and do it herself, she knew she needed the assistance. Simply standing was a struggle, her balance thrown with every movement, her head spinning as the room continued to tilt unevenly around her. There were fresh clothes for her - ill-fitting and carrying his scent - but their soft warmth was a welcomed change from what she’d had before. He sat her down on the end of the bed and ran his fingers through her hair, the heat summoned into his hands chasing away some of the cold dampness as he began to weave it into a loose braid.

“It was risky, travelling alone like that,” he said.

“I’ll be sure to let Cassandra know the two of you are in agreement,” Isii answered with a halfhearted laugh. “Though I don’t suppose she’d take that well now, all things considered.”

“You were completely isolated up there. By normal means, you would not have had any opportunities for assistance,” he chided. “What were you even doing there?”

“Hiding from you.”

She felt his movements pause once more.

“You should have suspected as much, Fen’Harel,” she said. “Your agents got as far as Tantervale before I was able to shake them. There’s been plenty of time for them to report back to you that they’d lost sight of me again.”

She could feel him secure the end of the braid, rising from his seat behind her. “You should lie down. Get some rest. I will check on you again soon.”

Isii turned, halting him with a hand to his sleeve. “Stay,” she said quickly, the word tumbling from her lips without thought. He pulled away reflexively, almost as if her touch were searing and yet stilled as her fist tightened around cloth. “ _Please._ ”

He studied her for a long, silent moment. That mysterious weight that always seemed to linger in his eyes looked heavier now than when she'd seen him last. He appeared uncertain until his lips pressed together, his head lowering in a slow nod as he loosened her grasp on him. When she crawled slowly back along the bed, he tucked the blankets around her, the weight of his body settling onto the mattress behind her. A cautious hand went to her waist and she pulled it close, hugging his arm possessively until she felt the press of his chest against her back.

How many nights had she dreamed of this? Of the familiar feel of his body against her own, of lying beside him once more? Yet now it felt strained and strangely hollow, muscles tensing against the unspoken reality of their circumstances. As if their bodies knew this was only a brief reprieve. Soon, they would be enemies once more. Soon, he would continue on his path toward destruction and she would be left scrambling for any solution that didn't result in his death or the death of countless others. 

Isii closed her eyes and listened to his breathing, stroking her fingers along the back of his hand until she could ease them between his own, woven into a loose embrace. "I missed you," she whispered. The words made her feel so small, so vulnerable, yet they had to be said. Even with everything he had done, even with everything he intended to do, she still loved him. She still believed that he was worth fighting for. It didn't matter if they would never be lovers again. She still wanted to know that he was safe - that he wasn't going to destroy himself and everything around him trying to atone for sins that were committed thousands of years ago. 

A slow breath slipped against her shoulder as he shifted, gently nuzzling the back of her neck with his brow. His lips hovered yet did not kiss, instead whispering his reply against her skin.

"I missed you too, vhenan." 

Closed eyes squeezed tightly as she tightened her grip on his hand, only loosening as a softly spoken string of Elvhen made consciousness slip away. The fever sent shivers through her, stirring her into waking until the press of his magic and his firm embrace would send her drifting back into sleep. Time fled in a confusing array of moments and yet he always remained, a constant force, soothing her as she woke before guiding her back down.

After a few fitful hours, she finally fell into a deeper sleep than she’d had in days.

**Author's Note:**

> I only have vague inklings of where this story may go, but it's been wallowing in my WIP folder for far too long. I decided that the first part should at least see the light of day.


End file.
